


All's Well That Ends Better

by graceling_in_a_suit



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, Halloween everybody!, House Party, M/M, Meet-Cute, Scheming Friends, basically a romcom set on halloween Youre Welcome, very butchered lord of the rings references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceling_in_a_suit/pseuds/graceling_in_a_suit
Summary: If Louis had ever dared to suggest that Halloween was his favourite holiday, he was paying for that dearly tonight.AU: Louis goes to a Halloween party as a Hobbit and finds himself a Gandalf. Mix in Niall, Liam, and Zayn as Louis' meddling employees and you've got yourself a witch's brew.





	All's Well That Ends Better

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloweeen Weeeeeeek oooooooOOOOoooOOOoOoo

If Louis had ever dared to suggest that Halloween was his favourite holiday, he was paying for that dearly tonight. The cheap plastic ears of the last-minute costume he'd nicked from Liam kept bloody falling off, and he’d already taken his cloak off to try and combat the oppressively hot _stickiness_ of the house party he had somehow agreed to attend, but none of that.

None of that was as bad as the _feet._

It was like wearing a pair of flippers on land, except he was sure he looked _more_ of a dickhead. People kept treading on them, apologising, then becoming incredibly confused whilst drunkenly staring at the ground and trying to work out if they were his real feet.

Of course they weren't his fucking real feet, any sober person could tell you that.

Because, for some unknowable reason, he’d decided that stealing Liam’s five-year old Hobbit costume was a better idea than Hawaiian Frankenstein, and not only because Liam begged him to wear it. He’d been _trying_ to prove his coworkers wrong that he had a complex about his size (which he definitely fucking didn’t, because he was _normal sized_ ).

He cursed loudly as he tried to navigate his way to the kitchen, people on either side jostling him without care. There was a techno remix of that ridiculous skeletons song blasting over the speakers Stan had rigged up, beer all over the floor, and Mother Teresa was doing a strip tease on the dining room table.

It was only 9:30.

Eventually, he shoved his way into the kitchen, ignoring the sloshed idiot behind him yelling, “Oi! Watch it, dwarf!”

Not quite accurate, but at least he had the right franchise.

Louis sagged against the kitchen counter, thunked his head against the cabinet behind him, closed his eyes and enjoyed the blessed emptiness of the kitchen.

He didn't used to be such a grouch at parties. He wasn't sure when that changed. Probably about when his ex-boyfriend publicly dumped him at one a year ago.

There was a bit of a scuffling noise outside the door, and Louis opened his eyes with a sigh.

The door opened, and on the other side appeared Gandalf. Louis snuck a glance at his still-full cup, half-convinced he was hallucinating.

The man was laughing at something over his shoulder, but the laughter died down when he turned to see Louis leaning against the counter.

Louis took him in calculatingly, noting the fake beard he had on, the limp wizard’s hat, what seemed to be his natural curls turned grey with chalk dust or something of the sort, and the ill-fitting robe he was wearing.

The first thing that came out of Louis’ mouth was a half-remembered gut instinct. “You're late.”

The man was taken aback for a moment, but then he caught on. He pursed his lips, eyes sparkling. “A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early.”

The man's Sir Ian McKellan impression was shoddy as best, but there was something about him that made Louis grin into his mystery punch (he refused to call it Zombie Juice like the label had said because he had some dignity, thank you very much).

“He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Louis nodded sagely, taking a gulp of his drink. The man wobbled a little in the doorway, someone behind him jostling him, but he didn't take his eyes off Louis.

“I didn't think I'd find a Hobbit here,” the man said. His voice was smooth and low, now he wasn't putting on an accent. Louis’ stomach twisted in on itself. Probably because of the punch.  

“We pop up in the most unexpected places, mate,” Louis sassed.

The man barked out a laugh. He took the final step into the kitchen, door clicking shut behind him. He pulled his fake beard down so it was hanging round his neck, and stepped closer to Louis. Louis’ eyes scanned his face, and he was moved with an instinct to touch the man’s cheek, just to see if it felt like the warm vanilla-scented candle it looked like.

Then he realised the man was trying to get at the cupboard behind him, and he coughed awkwardly as he shuffled out of the way.

“Cheers, mate,” Hot Gandalf said, pulling the cupboard door open. “Where do you reckon Stan keeps the _good stuff_?” he asked, head buried in the shelf.

Louis looked at him blankly, then at the kitchen table packed high with all manner of alcoholic beverages.

Hot Gandalf made a small noise of victory, and when he pulled back Louis saw he was holding a jar of chocolate coated biscuits.

If Louis hadn't already fallen in love with this stranger, he did then.

“Want one?” Hot Gandalf asked, presenting Louis with the now-open jar. Somehow, the man wasn't any less attractive talking with a mouth full of dry biscuit.

“Yeah, cheers mate, I've only had five meals today, I'm starved,” Louis said, nimble fingers pulling a biscuit out.

The man barked out another laugh, this one more of a strange honk, then looked immediately embarrassed at the noise he'd made.

Once he'd managed to regather his dignity, he asked with faux-concern, “Did you skip second breakfast?”

Louis nodded sadly, munching on his biscuit. It was kind of gross, and he was starting to suspect that the jar had been living in a darkened corner of that cupboard for quite some time before Hot Gandalf’s giant hands had fished it out.

“Well, eat up then, Master Hobbit,” he said, shaking the jar and ignoring the way the movement caused most of the biscuits to crumble into dust. “You’ll need your strength to come on an adventure!”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m coming on an adventure, am I? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Well that would be because I didn’t ask,” Hot Gandalf said, turning away for a moment to put the jar back in the cupboard. “I’m going to a haunted house tonight and I’ve had quite a bit of Zombie Juice so I feel brave enough to demand you come with me.”

Louis leaned back a little, crossing his arms. Normally, he would resent such an arrogant attitude, but there was something so disarming about this man: his goofiness, his sincerity.

Louis found himself… charmed.

“I’ll go on one condition,” he said, inspecting his fingernails nonchalantly.

Hot Gandalf put his hands on his hips, bunching up the ridiculous grey robe he was wearing (that looked suspiciously like a re-appropriated dressing gown) and pouted.

Louis looked up at him from beneath his eyelashes. “You have to let me wear the beard.”

Hot Gandalf’s face was carefully blank for a few moments, then a grin spread across his it. “But how will people recognise me without my beard?” he asked, already struggling to pull it off.

Louis shrugged. “Not my problem, mate.”

Hot Gandalf laughed, and presented Louis the beard with a low bow.

Louis took it with some amount of trepidation. He didn't really have a plan for what he wanted to do with it. In the end, he decided to attach it to his face. He knocked his fake ears off in the process, and cackled at Hot Gandalf’s horrified reaction.

“Put them back on! The illusion is ruined!” he whined, picking up the ears and shoving them into Louis’ chest.

Louis shoved them back playfully. “Keep ‘em, mate. I got your beard, you can have those.”

Hot Gandalf squinted at them in thought, then very slowly placed them on his ears.

Louis bit his cheek as he watched. It was definitely a relief not to have them scratching at his ears, and even the cheap plastic beard was less cumbersome in comparison. They made Hot Gandalf look rather ridiculous, though.

“Well, I think we're presentable enough now go on an adventure, hmm?” the man said when he was done, smoothing out his robe.

This was the point Louis should say, _No, strange handsome man, I'm not going to go on an ‘adventure’ with you._

Instead, he pulled the kitchen door open with a flourish, not even wincing at the flood of noise. “Lead the way, Mr. Wizard, Sir.”

He really should ask this man's name at some point.

Hot Gandalf tipped his ridiculous hat on his way past, leading them back into the drunken mess of a party. Louis couldn't help but cheer as he walked past Spock making out with Wolverine, and Hot Gandalf joined in enthusiastically.

The men either ignored them or were too drunk to realise someone was congratulating them.

Hot Gandalf lead them out of the house and onto the back porch, where the smokers were hanging out. Louis coughed a little, already itching to bum a drag.

“Harry!” someone called, and Louis turned to see Zayn fucking Malik standing next to Hot Gandalf, hugging him with is free hand.

Shit.

Hot Gandalf was _Harry_. Zayn’s infamous, wonderful-at-baking, ‘no you can't date him even though he sounds exactly your type stop asking’ roommate. Louis gulped, looking between Harry and Zayn warily. He had an insane moment of hope that perhaps Zayn wouldn't recognise him with the beard.

“Zayn!” Harry enthused, placing his hands on his skinny shoulders and turning them both towards Louis. “This is my Hobbit! He's coming with us on our haunted house adventure.”

Zayn looked between Louis and Harry with a suspicious expression. “Harry…” he started, no doubt about to ruin all of Louis’ chances by telling Harry that his new Hobbit friend was actually Louis Tomlinson, his ill-tempered perfectionist boss that he's probably heard a million bad stories about.

Louis stuck his hand out with determination, cutting Zayn off.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” he said, a sharpness to his smile he was sure Zayn would pick up on.

And he did, given his wide-eyed gulp.

“Yeah, likewise,” he said, far slower than was normal for regular conversation, and shook Louis’ hand.

Louis and Zayn had a strange sort of glaring contest as they shook hands, both squeezing much too hard.

“Um,” Harry said, even sounding lovely when he was put out. “Are you guys okay?”

Zayn pulled his hand back, making a show of wiping it on his shirt. “Yeah, course, Haz. Let's get going.”

Harry smiled, then turned to lead the way. Behind his back, Louis elbowed Zayn and raised his eyebrows pointedly. Zayn flipped him off with a scowl. When Harry turned back they started following, both painting a doting smile on their faces as they trotted after him.

Louis had a moment where he considered finding Stan to say goodbye, but as he navigated the crowded, loud party on his way to the front door he decided against it. Louis could text him in the morning, pretend like he’d had a great time, and that would be that.

When they reached Zayn’s car, Louis expected Harry to climb into the front seat. Instead, he pulled open the back door with a flourish that almost whipped Louis’ borrowed ears off his head, and motioned for Louis to go in first.

“Star treatment, ay?” Louis laughed, crawling into the back seat.

Zayn made a face at him in the rear-view mirror.

Harry just laughed, clambering in to sit next to Louis and pulling the door shut behind him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Zayn turned over the engine and cut him off. He pulled out onto the street, cranking up the radio.

Harry closed his mouth and smiled bemusedly at Louis.

Louis resisted the urge to kick Zayn’s seat.

The trip to the haunted house only took about ten minutes all up, and Harry spent the time trying to convince Louis to drink some ‘car hooch’ that he’d pulled from underneath the passenger’s seat.

It involved a lot of pouting and doe eyes.

Never let it be said that Louis Tomlinson didn’t have a strong stubborn streak when he wanted to, but right then, the streetlights flashing over Harry’s smooth skin, the way he managed to look so lovely even in a dressing gown with chalk-dusted grey hair, well.

Louis drank the damn hooch. And it tasted suspiciously wonderful.

Zayn laughed at his expression from the driver’s seat, then turned down the radio long enough to tell Louis it was a mix of rum, chocolate syrup, maple syrup, cinnamon, and pumpkin spiced milk.

Louis pretended to gag.

Harry stole the bottle back with a hurt expression that melted into a grin when Louis grabbed the awful thing back to have another swig.

There was no point being more sober than your wizard companion on a late night Halloween adventure, as he always said.

Well, he could start saying it now.

When Zayn finally pulled up to their destination, it wasn’t at all what Louis had been expecting.  
  
They were on a regular fucking suburban street, with regular houses and white picket fences and range rovers and trimmed lawns.

Louis looked at Harry in confusion, but the other man was already stumbling out of the car. He had far too many legs to deal with, it seemed. It was a pity he’d been hiding them under his robe, because the flash of thigh Louis was introduced to looked like it deserved to see the world. Should have an international devoted fanbase, a thigh like that.

Perhaps the car hooch was stronger than Louis thought, he mused as he stumbled out after Harry.

“This is it, right?” he asked, leaning against the roof of the car as he gazed up at the boring two story house in front of him.

Harry turned to grin at him wickedly. He leaned against the car on the other side, mirroring Louis. When he spoke, it was in the goofiest fake-spooky voice Louis had ever heard.

“This house contains all manner of horrors and delights!” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Beware all those who enter!”

Zayn snorted. Louis looked over to him. He’d almost forgotten he was there at the periphery of Louis’ vision, loitering in the driveway and lighting a cigarette.

“What Harry means is,” Zayn started, pausing to take a drag, “friends of ours set up a haunted house every year, and they’ve promised this one will be scary, but they never are.”

Harry whipped his head around. Louis couldn’t see his expression from this angle, but he was sure he looked like a betrayed frog.

Louis smiled at the back of his head for a delirious few seconds, and then it dawned on him.  
  
This was Niall and Liam’s haunted house. Every single year, they bragged about the haunted house they were setting up until everyone in the office either told them to shut up or agreed to come check it out. Louis had seen all of them, of course, because he was an excellent friend and very cool boss. In fact, he was already booked to attend this very house over the weekend.

But if Harry and Zayn were seeing it tonight, then Niall and Liam were definitely in there. And there was no way Liam or Niall wouldn’t spill the beans on Louis’ top secret identity.

“You coming?” Harry asked. Louis looked between him and the house. He scratched his fake beard in thought, then made a face.

“I don’t know how you kept this on for any amount of time, mate,” he said, tugging it away from his face. He walked round the car at chucked it at right at Harry’s grin, causing him to sputter ridiculously. “Come on, then, haven’t got all night,” he shot over his shoulder, marching up to the door.

Zayn trotted after him, still smoking his cigarette.

Harry had caught up by the time Louis had reached the front porch.

The way he walked next to Louis, leaning almost worryingly into Louis’ space, would have been off-putting if Louis wasn't so into it.

It was no surprise, really, that the Harry he'd been hearing about for months (and eating the delicious baked creations of, and looking at the beautiful photography of on his website like an absolute creep) was exactly Louis’ type. Fate clearly intended for them to meet; Louis hadn't been distracted enough to miss the anchor tattoo on Harry's wrist when his sleeve had fallen up his arm as he talked with his hands on the car ride here—an anchor tattoo that lined up perfectly with Louis’ rope.

Yes. Definitely fate.

And only one man dared stand in between Louis and fate.

Louis sent another glare over his shoulder at Zayn as he leant his weight onto the buzzer. His sudden increase in pettiness was no doubt the result of Car Hooch seeping its way into his veins, but he was too buzzed to much care.

The door before him was pulled open suddenly, and Louis startled backwards into Harry's warm chest. He steadied Louis on instinct, two hands gripping Louis’ waist, but Louis was too otherwise occupied to appreciate it.

Because in front of him wasn't a haunted house at all. It was a regular fucking house.

“Wha-” he started.

“Now!” someone yelled, and then Harry was stumbling into him from behind. They were pushed into the house quicker than Louis’ could react.

 _Slam!_ went the door.

Louis turned to blink at it in shock, still clinging to an unstable Harry.

“You’re welcome!” came a voice from outside, tinged with laughter.

Louis peered through the peephole. On the other side of the door was Niall, Liam, and Zayn. They were high-fiving each other like the ridiculous traitorous twats they were.

“Can you explain yourself, please?” Louis called sweetly.

Liam and Niall looked back at the door guiltily, but Zayn still seemed unfazed.

“We’re gonna come back in the morning to let you out, we made you a nice dinner, don’t break anything, goodbye,” he listed, then turned and walked off the porch.

“Have fun boys!” Liam called as he turned to follow. Louis glared at him impotently through the peephole. It wasn’t fair that Liam was using his cute camp voice at a time like this when he _knew_ how much Louis loved it.

Niall waved cheerily, then he was gone as well.  
  
Louis swore. He thunked his head against the wood of the door and closed his eyes. There was absolutely no way he could explain this to Harry without coming across as a totally insane creep, even if he blamed everything on his useless employees. Employees who apparently pitied Louis so much that they conspired to lock him in a house with their hot single friend because he’d obviously never have a chance otherwise.

“Um,” Harry said from behind him, clearing his throat and shuffling.

Louis sighed. He turned, still leaning against the door.  
  
“I’m really sorry about this, Louis.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. Quite rude of Harry to steal his line.

Harry was looking at his feet, clutching his wizard’s hat in his hands like an infant who’d spilled juice all over the telly or something. But, Louis knew from experience that infants were _never_ this remorseful.

“It’s not your fault, Harry, I should really explain–” Louis started. Then, it dawned on him. “How did you know my name? I never told you.”

Harry still didn’t look up from his feet, but his eyes widened to an almost terrifying degree. It made him look like a squeeze toy of some sort.

And he’d _known Louis’ name._

Harry turned on the spot and took off down the hallway.  
  
“What! Harry, come back here!” Louis yelled, sprinting after him. “How did you know my name!”

Harry was weaving through the house, losing time by opening a couple doors, seeing how much Louis had caught up, then taking off again. His long bloody legs gave him an advantage when he reached the stairs, taking them _four at a time_ like some kind of _heathen,_ but Louis had hooch in his veins and he’d already ripped his cumbersome plastic feet off and he was getting his answers, goddamnit.

“Stop running!” he panted, clinging to the railing as Harry disappeared into the upstairs level.

“No!” Harry yelled back, “leave my to die of embarrassment in peace! Please!”

Louis halted on the stairs as he did a double take. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

The sounds of running slowed, then stopped. Louis was still only halfway up the stairs, and he couldn't see where Harry had gone. He started moving up the stairs again, slowly and cautiously.

“You’re gonna think I’m a dickhead,” Harry replied, his low drawl almost too quiet to hear in the sudden silence of the house.

Louis climbed the final step, looking around the floor. Harry was standing next to an open window, one leg dangling out like he’d paused halfway through trying to escape a house fire.

Louis did his best to look calming and sympathetic. It was really hard, though, because Harry looked ridiculous.

“I promise I won’t,” Louis swore, taking another step towards Harry. “But do you think you could step away from the window, please, love?”

Harry sighed. He pulled his leg back on to dry land, then rearranged his robe where it had come undone a little, what with all the running from his problems he’d just done.

“So, um,” he started, taking a second to run a hand through his hair, releasing a cloud of chalk dust in the process. “I kind of, maybe, know who you are.”

Louis crossed his arms.

“I’m not stalking you or anything, I promise!” Harry hastened to add. “It’s just, Zayn’s always talking about how cool his boss is, and I was pretty curious. And then I saw you at Niall and Liam’s haunted house last year, d’you remember? The Disney themed one?”

Louis winced at the memory.

“And you were like,” Harry laughed uncomfortably. Then, he squared his shoulders. When he spoke next, it was with conviction. “You were really fit, and you were so cute with that baby pig, and you seemed really lovely and funny. You wouldn’t recognise me, I was. Um. I was Zombie Maleficent, I had a lot of makeup on. And a dress. And horns. But the point is,” Harry took a step forward, “That I begged Zayn to set me up with you, and he said he’d see what he could do. And then nothing happened for a year, so I kind of forgot about it.”

Louis raised his eyebrows.

“No! I didn’t–I mean–I didn’t forget about _you,_ I forgot that I asked him to set us up. I was actually, um. Gonna come along to your office Christmas party? And introduce myself? But then I saw you tonight, and I didn’t really handle it very well, so I just pretended I didn’t know who you were and then I invited you along on a whim and I’m starting to realise that was definitely their plan.”

He blew out a breath, like that rambling mess of an explanation had taken a lot out of him. Maybe it had, Louis didn’t know him.

But it was becoming increasingly obvious that he quite wanted to.

“Right, well,” he said briskly, fishing his phone from his pocket.

He’d dialled Zayn’s number before Harry could react.  
  
“Zayn!” he chirped when the lad picked up. “You’re fucking fired.”

Harry waved his hands in panic. “No, don’t, Louis–” he hissed, staring at the phone with horror.

Louis tucked the phone into his neck, ignoring the sounds of Zayn giggling on the other end, and stood on his tiptoes to give Harry’s cheek a quick peck.  
  
It didn’t quite work to calm him down, but he definitely stop waving his arms about like an inflatable balloon boy. Instead, he stilled, pressing an awed hand to his cheek.

Louis turned his attention back to his call.  
  
“I can’t believe you would tell me all about your wonderful, perfect-for-me friend then tell me I wasn’t allowed to date him _then_ have it turn out you’ve been planning some elaborate, convoluted, and utterly _unnecessary_ set up for us when you could have just given him my number months ago and we could be on our honeymoon in Paris by now."

Zayn had quieted his laughter a little in deference to Louis’ very legitimate anger, which Louis appreciated, but it didn’t make him any less _fired._

“Paris?” Harry whispered dazedly from behind Louis.

“Look, Lou,” Zayn replied, voice sincere for once. “I could tell you weren’t over Nick yet, when Harry first asked. You were still moping about the office and sighing into your coffee, even though it had been, like, a solid two months since he dumped you. And then you picked yourself up and you had a bunch of flings and we were all very proud of you! But Harry’s my mate, and _yes_ you guys are perfect for each other, but we all agreed we didn’t want to set you up before you were ready for something serious again.”  
  
Louis almost threw his phone out the bloody window. If he had any idea how invested his employees apparently were in his sex life, he would have transferred to a different department months ago.

But then, he looked back at Harry’s confused squishy face, how he smiled on instinct the second they made eye contact even though he was definitely bricking it, and.

Zayn might perhaps have a point.

Louis sighed. “You’re still fired, babes,” he snapped into the phone, with much less heat than before.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn said. “See you Monday, boss.”

Louis frowned at his phone. “What? No, you’ll see me tomorrow when you come let us out of this random family’s home, thank you very much.”

Zayn sniggered. “Nah, I’m making Niall do that. He’s your favourite, you won’t hit him.”

Louis hung up.

“Did you, um,” Harry said, fiddling with his robe. “Did you really fire him?”

He looked genuinely distraught.

“What?” Louis said, “of course not. He’s just done me a massive favour. Really, I should send him an edible arrangement. Once I’m done being pissed at him, that is.”

Harry blinked a few times, then smiled cheekily. It was like the house warmed up several degrees at the very sight. “Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”

Louis definitely wasn’t tipsy anymore—the last twenty minutes had been very sobering—but he still felt giddy, all of a sudden. Like his body was made of bubbles.

“Because now I’m locked in a very lovely house with an even lovelier boy,” Louis replied, stepping close draping his arms over Harry’s shoulders brazenly, “and it’s a Halloween miracle.”

Harry snorted cutely, threading his fingers together on the small of Louis’ back. It was a little awkward at first as they settled against each other, but after a moment everything seemed to click into place.

Harry nuzzled his cheek into Louis’ hair and whispered into his ear, “I don’t think Halloween miracles are a thing, Louis.”

Louis exhaled sharply, trying to blow some of the chalky strands from his face. “It’ll be a Halloween miracle if you could have a shower, actually,” he sassed back, stepping on Harry’s feet.

Harry hummed in thought, swaying them together. Louis was apparently more tired than he’d thought, because he was on the edge of sleep already, just being warm in Harry’s arms in the still-dark house.

“Will you join me?” he asked, taking a shaky step back towards the stairs with Louis still perched on his feet.

Louis gripped onto Harry’s shoulders for safety. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he said, prying himself out of Harry’s hold before the mad fool could tumble them both down the stairs. “How about you shower, by _yourself,_ creep, and I’ll see what this mysterious ‘dinner’ they’ve apparently made us is.”

Harry pouted a little, and Louis couldn’t tell if he was just being difficult or if he was genuinely offended.

“Don’t look at me like that, love. I’ll try and find you some biscuits, how 'bout that?”

Harry’s pout turned into a cackle. He followed Louis back downstairs, calling “as long as they’re better than Stans!” over his shoulder as he made his way to the bathroom.

Louis smiled after him for a second, then turned towards the kitchen.

It was going to be a fun night.

 

_\--ONE YEAR LATER--_

 

“Louis! Your boy is here!” Niall called, far louder than need be in an office as small at theirs.

Louis looked up from his work, a smile already on his face.

Harry’s head peeked around the corner of his cubicle—a sight made even more ridiculous by how much the man had to bend down in order to hide behind the four foot cubicle walls.

“Afternoon, darling,” Louis said, turning his chair away from his desk and leaning up for a kiss.

Harry rushed forwards to give him one, then he pressed another against Louis’ cheek.  
  
“Hi, baby,” he said, sticking his nose behind Louis’ ear.

“You guys are disgusting,” Niall commented, resting his arms on the top of Louis’ cubicle walls. “Absolute filth.”

His tone of voice was more charmed than anything else.

Louis flipped him off anyway, kissing Harry again for the hell of it.

Harry pulled back after a second with a laugh, rising back to his full height. “Are you almost done?”

Louis leaned back into his chair with a sigh. “Nearly, Haz, I just need to send a couple more emails.”  
  
Harry started giving him a gentle shoulder massage. “Emails, _spppooooky,”_ he drawled.

Niall pointed at him. “Yes! Next year’s theme: _office massacre._ I love it.” 

Louis rolled his eyes fondly, fingers flying on the keyboard as he listened to them bicker about colour schemes and where to find cheap office furniture to ruin with fake intestines and blood spatter.

By the time Louis was wrapping up, Liam and Zayn had joined in on the planning, throwing about increasingly terrible ideas.

Louis hadn’t managed to squeeze this year’s theme from the bastards, but he was looking forward to finding out tonight. Well, he had been before the conversation he’d just heard.    
Even though he’d much rather be spending his and Harry’s one year anniversary somewhere nicer than a haunted house, he’d been bullied into going. Said bullying involved several months of pastry-related bribery courtesy of the local bakery, and it was about to pay off for his three worst workers.

“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Louis said, shutting down his computer and shrugging on his jacket. He’d made no attempt to dress for the occasion, but Niall, Zayn and Liam had all turned up in horrifying black cloaks this morning and no amount of shaming or threatening could convince them that they shouldn’t be looking like death eaters on company time.

It didn’t really give Louis much hope for this year’s theme.

The car ride to the house was the usual chaotic affair; Niall, Liam and Zayn playing ‘mood music’ that consisted of dubstep remixes of spooky organ riffs and just generally being impish pests.

Louis and Harry were content to sit in the back and have their own little quiet conversation about their weekend plans—a _lovely_ trip to Paris they’d been planning for a few months.  
  
Then, Niall pulled up to the location. It was the same house as last year, which already had Louis on the edge of his seat. Harry clasped his hand firmly as they ascended the porch steps, looking as nervous as Louis felt. Liam, Niall and Zayn had already disappeared to get everything ready (and when exactly they’d adopted Zayn into their strange haunted-house-creating cult, Louis wasn’t sure).

They waited patiently in front of the door as they’d been instructed. Just before the door was pulled open, grand-sounding music started to play. It was oddly familiar, but Louis couldn’t quite place it.

Harry stepped through the now-open door, dragging Louis in with him, and they looked around the foyer together. It was decorated sort of like a cavern, with spiderwebs on the ceiling and a couple skeletons run through with prop swords littered around the place. Louis peered around the open door into the dining room area, where it looked like a volcano had been set up on the table. There was something painted on a sheet stuck to the wall behind it, a dark tower with something red at the top.

Louis squinted at it—no, he _didn’t_ need glasses, he was perfectly vision...ed—when the music swelled into an unmistakable melody.

Louis threw his head back and laughed.

Harry stomped his foot next to him, realising at the same time as Louis.

“You fuckers!” he called into the house, and was met by quiet sniggering.

Louis rubbed a hand down his face, groaning and laughing at the same time.

“It’s fucking Lord of the Rings, themed, Harry. I hate them.”

Harry squeezed his hand in solidarity. “Me, too. They’re the worst.”

Louis smiled up at him fondly. Then, he took off down the hallway.

“Come on, Haz!” he called over his shoulder. “I wanna find Hobbiton!”

Harry followed, laughter echoing through the house.

 

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for leading lovely! Comments and kudos are much appreciated at always, and check out the [fic post](http://graceling-in-a-suit.tumblr.com/post/179398040530/alls-well-that-ends-better-by-graceling-in-a-suit) on tumblr if you have a sec :) Happy Spooky Time!


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